


no one lies about being lonely

by Lint



Series: Madeline [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: “I'm trying to make a point,” Veronica rebounds, rolling her eyes. “Betty was in love with me, but wouldn't or couldn't admit it to herself, so Madeline focused on her desires. There must be something about you that Betty hoped for deep down, but maybe you were too, well you for it to happen.”





	no one lies about being lonely

**Author's Note:**

> For Odalis, who didn't ask, but got it anyway.

Veronica sits next to Kevin in the student lounge, sipping her coffee delightedly, as he spills the latest hearsay about to be published in his gossip column. He's only partway through a story about Tamara Smith, a girl in their class but Veronica is unfamiliar with, when she catches sight of Cheryl in her peripheral vision.

 

Though her attention remains focused on Kevin, she keeps glancing to where the redhead remains posted just off to the side. Once the details are given and the story concluded, Veronica turns her head in Cheryl's direction, who takes it as an invitation and approaches. That in itself is a little odd, the hesitation on her part, as if she's ever held any qualms about storming into people's conversations.

 

“Pardon my interruption of this Gossip Girl repeat,” she says, eyes pointedly at Kevin. “But do you have a moment, Veronica? There's something I'd like to... Discuss with you.”

 

Kevin's mouth parts to offer his input on the request, which is immediately shot down with an upturned palm.

 

“Sorry Kev,” she says sweetly, not sounding sorry at all. “Just us girls on this one.”

 

Veronica gives him an apologetic look, which he's quick to shoo away, as she gathers her bag from the floor.

 

“Go,” he offers evenly, then turns his gaze to Cheryl. “You know she's just going to tell me later, don't you?”

 

She gives nothing but an insincere smile.

 

“Then may you wait with baited breath.”

 

Departing down the hall after that, she doesn't bother to look back, knowing surely that Veronica will follow.

 

-

 

“Must be serious,” she says, though her tone is anything but, as Cheryl guides her into an empty biology lab.

 

Cheryl doesn't comment, staring out of the large windows toward the football field, keeping her back to Veronica.

 

“I saw,” she starts, turning to give a quick glance for added drama, then goes right back to the window. “Something.”

 

“Okay,” Veronica gives, eyebrow lifting curiously. “What exactly did you see?”

 

Cheryl sighs, as if she's second guessing saying anything more.

 

“Betty,” she offers after a moment. “Except, it wasn't really?”

 

Veronica's hand involuntarily clenches on the strap on her bag.

 

“I mean, I know that whole family is coo coo bananas, but this-”

 

“You met Madeline,” Veronica interrupts. “Didn't you?”

 

Cheryl's jaw drops, ruby red lips pulling back as she gasps.

 

“It has a name?”

 

“Yes,” Veronica answers. “ _She_ does.”

 

Cheryl's arms fold across her chest, mouth snapping shut into a thin line.

 

“Of course you know about this,” she mutters to herself. “This is what I get for-”

 

“Cheryl,” Veronica cuts her off. “Did something happen?”

 

“I don't know what you mean.”

 

Veronica gives a stern look.

 

“Madeline can be pretty-”

 

“Intense?”

 

Veronica's head tilts with a shared knowledge. Something definitely happened. Though what exactly is not important, so much as the possible fallout of Cheryl discovering her condition.

 

“Let me guess,” Veronica begins. “You went to another one of those secret warehouse parties in Greendale, and saw a familiar looking girl, dressed all in black with hair to match. One who didn't respond at all to your calling her Betty.”

 

Cheryl's eyes widen, before her lips curl into a sneer.

 

“Is this some kind of prank?” she accuses. “Did the two of you plan this? Kind of elaborate, don't you think? Just to have a laugh at my expense?”

 

“No,” Veronica is quick to deny. “God, Cheryl. Why would we? That's how I met her. Exact same scenario.”

 

Cheryl doesn't look like she believes it.

 

“The night you took me to one of those parties,” Veronica goes on. “I saw her there. Probably did what you did. Walked right up and asked why she was dressed like that, what she was even doing there.”

 

Cheryl's left eye twitches.

 

“This really isn't a prank?”

 

“Believe me, it's not. I just...” She sighs. “I don't think we had a contingency plan for other people finding out.”

 

“Boy scout and the hobo don't know?” Cheryl asks.

 

“No,” Veronica answers. “Just me, her parents, Polly, and now you I guess.”

 

Veronica moves toward her.

 

“The real question is, what are you going to do, Cheryl?”

 

“What?”

 

“This isn't some petty school rumor to be spread. It's serious.”

 

Cheryl honestly looks offended.

 

“What you must think of me,” she says quietly.

 

Veronica waits her out.

 

“I may be a bitch,” Cheryl admits, brows furrowing. “But I'm not cruel.”

 

/\

 

Greendale is played out.

 

She doesn't know why she bothers with these parties anymore. It's not like they're much fun. Not really one for drink or drugs, the music and dancing always made it worthwhile, but this time? The DJ is awful. The crowd is faking it more than feeling, and she hasn't seen a single pretty face worth flirting with the hour or so she's been here.

 

Checking her phone for the umpteenth time, no messages but what else is new, it's two minutes past midnight. She is two seconds away from just leaving when something, someone, catches her eye. For a moment her brain doesn't believe what her eyes are telling her, as she approaches slowly, wanting some kind of close up confirmation.

 

“Betty?” she asks, coming up on the girl.

 

No response, as the girl moves with the lame music, that ridiculous wig swaying to and fro in front of closed eyes. Gotta be her Cheryl thinks, no matter this strange change in fashion, goth Barbie is assuredly Betty Cooper underneath.

 

“Betty!” she repeats, trying to be heard over the music.

 

The eyes snap open and focus on her, Cheryl taken aback by how sharply they do, placing doubt inside her mind that she could have been mistaken.

 

“Halloween come early this year?” Cheryl snaps instead. It easier to be mean than surprised.

 

She tries not to flinch when Betty throws her arms around Cheryl's neck uninvited, intimidation is her game after all, but it's hard to quell the sudden jump in her pulse. Matching Betty's dance on instinct, Cheryl is slightly confused by how fluidly she moves, the girl usually so stiff and awkward with the Vixens.

 

“What is this about?” she questions. “Are you the anti-Betty? Death to the pastel princess, and all that?”

 

Betty/not Betty only smirks and keeps dancing.

 

“What's the matter?” Cheryl carries on. “Cat got your tongue?”

 

It takes every ounce of strength not to flinch when Betty/not Betty, invades her personal space even more.

 

“Would you rather it be you?” Betty/not Betty taunts.

 

Cheryl scowls.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Betty/not Betty laughs right in her face.

 

“Just teasing you, Red. I know you and Betty are in a family way. Kinda, sorta.”

 

Cheryl's cheeks flush of their own accord.

 

“Yes,” she admits softly. “This is... It's wildly inappropriate.”

 

Betty/not Betty smirks again, Cheryl's eyes transfixed on crimson lips that nearly match her own.

 

“But fun, right?” Betty/not Betty questions. “That's what you came here for, isn't it? That and maybe hook up with some local girl? That side of you has been so thirsty, hasn't it? Since that thing with Josie blew up in your face.”

 

Cheryl audibly gasps.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she hisses.

 

Betty/not Betty grins.

 

“Yes, you do. I know what she knows, Red. And I can say what she never will.”

 

Cheryl is getting tired of this charade.

 

“You keep talking like you're not her.”

 

“Because I'm not,” Betty/not Betty insists. “Haven't you picked up on that by now?”

 

Cheryl is pulled swiftly by her right arm, and spun so quickly, she nearly loses her balance on four inch heels. When she manages to stabilize her stance, Betty/not Betty is nowhere to be seen.

 

/\

 

The bell chimes above Veronica's head as she enters Pop's, looking left, then to the right to see Cheryl waiting in a corner booth. She makes way toward her, pausing to nod a hello at Pop himself, before sliding into the booth.

 

“I now call this meeting of the split personality disorder support club to order,” Cheryl says as soon as Veronica settles.

 

The brunette's expression sours.

 

“Really?”

 

Cheryl shrugs, not taking the statement back.

 

“I assume you had another encounter,” Veronica states, folding her hands atop the table.

 

“Yes,” Cheryl answers in a harsh whisper. “She showed up at my door, like we were old chums or something. If she's not really Betty, how the hell does she know where I live?”

 

Veronica sighs, about to follow it with an answer, when Pop comes up to take her order. Asking for a chocolate shake and a side of fries, which she knows Cheryl will just pick off of, despite not ordering any for herself.

 

“Madeline knows everything Betty knows,” Veronica continues, when Pop walks back to the kitchen. “It's kind of this weird, one way street deal. Betty is never aware of what Madeline says, or does, but she gets to know everything.”

 

“How does that work?” Cheryl wonders aloud.

 

Veronica thinks it over.

 

“Her doctor thinks it has a lot to do with repression. Betty doesn't know, because deep down, she doesn't want to. Being aware of Madeline's existence doesn't mean she can control it, or even be aware when she takes over. But Madeline, wants to know everything, and be everything Betty will never let herself.”

 

Cheryl seems honestly surprised by the mention of a doctor.

 

“She's actually seeing someone about this?”

 

“Twice a week,” Veronica informs.

 

“And she still-”

 

“There's no cure for this, Cheryl. The best she can hope for is safely managing the condition. Which so far, she has been.”

 

Cheryl sits back against her seat.

 

“I don't understand my place in this,” she says honestly.

 

Veronica can't help to laugh, something that brings out the ire in the redhead's eyes. Pop drops off the shake and plate of fries with a friendly smile, and Veronica reaches for the ketchup with one hand, while pulling her shake closer with the other.

 

“You want to know what I think?” she asks.

 

“No,” Cheryl rebukes harshly. Then, softer. “Yes.”

 

Veronica dips a fry into the ketchup, blowing cautiously before taking a bite.

 

“She likes you.”

 

Cheryl blanches at the statement.

 

“I'm sorry, what?”

 

Veronica rolls her eyes, pausing to take a sip of her shake.

 

“Not like that,” she's quick to detract. “Remember, Madeline is everything Betty wants to be, or won't let herself be, and something about you falls into that.”

 

Cheryl shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

 

“I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend,” she mutters.

 

Veronica smirks.

 

“Madeline is not my girlfriend. Betty is. Though, full disclosure, Madeline did make a hard play at seducing me.”

 

Cheryl throws a hand up.

 

“No more details like that please,” she says. “Or I may vomit.”

 

“I'm trying to make a point,” Veronica rebounds, rolling her eyes. “Betty was in love with me, but wouldn't or couldn't admit it to herself, so Madeline focused on her desires. There must be something about you that Betty hoped for deep down, but maybe you were too, well _you_ for it to happen.”

 

“I have no idea what that could be.”

 

Veronica regards her a moment.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Veronica quickly detracts. “Just a thought.”

 

“Out with it.”

 

Veronica plucks another fry from the plate.

 

“Maybe it's not about Betty's wants. Maybe Madeline senses something in you.”

 

Cheryl is not amused.

 

“What could that freak show possibly-”

 

“That you're lonely,” Veronica interrupts. “You're so lonely, some days you just can't stand it.”

 

Cheryl's bottom lip begins to tremble, as tears suddenly shine in her eyes.

 

“Madeline knows you were trying to be a friend, with the incident in the bathroom, and all that stuff with your mom and Betty's dad.”

 

Veronica sips her shake again.

 

“I think she's just trying to return the favor.”

 

/\

 

Cheryl fully intends on ignoring the knock on the door, assuming it another one of mother's gentleman callers. Instead she focuses on finishing the last fingernail, perfectly polished to match her lips, when the knocking intensifies.

 

A sick feeling swirls in her stomach, how the desperate lonely losers of Riverdale all seem to file toward her house, ready and willing to pay for Mommy's cookies. When the third round comes, she growls under her breath, marching in anger across the foyer, pulling open the door with such force it sends her hair billowing.

 

“Brothel's closed lonely Joe,” she snaps without really looking at the visitor. “So go on home and use your laptop like the rest of the deviants in this pathetic little town.”

 

The uninvited guest clears their throat, causing Cheryl's eyes to actually focus on their face, and she can't help to gasp when Betty/not Betty appears before her.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, inwardly cringing at how small her voice sounds.

 

“Good evening to you, too.”

 

A flush creeps into Cheryl's cheeks, knowing she's being rude, but really. How is she supposed to deal with this? Her mouth opens to say something, but what, her brain doesn't carry through with.

 

“Madeline,” Betty/not Betty says, extending her hand.

 

Cheryl only stares at it like a snake head, expecting nothing more than a venomous bite.

 

“Am I really supposed to call you that?”

 

Madeline smirks.

 

“I should hope so. It's my name.”

 

Cheryl only stares at her. All in black again, pick a highlight color at least, but somewhat more casual than what she wore in Greendale. Eventually Betty/not- _Madeline_ , drops her hand, but makes no move to leave.

 

“What do you want?” Cheryl asks.

 

Madeline smirks.

 

“I thought we could watch a movie.”

 

Cheryl isn't sure she heard right.

 

“What?”

 

Madeline's eyebrow lifts.

 

“Like you have anything better to do.”

 

She steps across the thresh hold uninvited, and Cheryl numbly stands aside to allow her access. Madeline steps into the middle of the foyer, heels clicking on the hardwood, something that catches Cheryl's attention. Betty never wears anything other than flats outside of a school dance.

 

“Come on,” Madeline says, head tilted toward the living room.

 

Cheryl has a million questions, one of which happens to be just how Madeline seems to know the layout of her house, but she only follows silently. She doesn't even comment when Madeline makes herself at home on the couch, patting the spot next to her, with a playful look in her eye. Cheryl again, says nothing, sitting quietly next to the girl with a bad wig and familiar face.

 

“This is so strange,” she finally manages to say.

 

Madeline grins.

 

“No more than anything else that happens in this town,” she replies.

 

Cheryl has no reply to that.

 

Madeline picks up the remote, shifts through the menu on the TV quickly, as if she already has a movie in mind. When she settles on To Kill a Mockingbird, Cheryl's head turns sharply to her, but Madeline focuses on the screen and hits OK. They barely talk while the movie plays, but part way through Madeline loops their arms together, which surprises Cheryl but she doesn't object.

 

In her entire life, she can't think of a single moment where she's done something like this. Being a normal girl in a small town, just hanging out with a, she hesitates to use the word friend, but doesn't know what else to use with Bet- _Madeline_. It's still odd to think of her as a completely separate person.

 

When the movie ends, Madeline suggests another, quickly picking one before any objections can be made. Cheryl doesn't remember the end of the second movie, Roman Holiday, Madeline is really into Gregory Peck it seems. Having nodded off around the time Joe pulls the hand prank on Ann, she wakes up alone on the couch, and is appalled at how sad she is because of it.

 

Sighing, she makes way to the bathroom to prepare for bed and freezes at the sight of a ruby red lip print reflected in the mirror, right in the middle of her forehead.

 

/\

 

Veronica doesn't think she ever get used to the feeling, when Betty leans down to kiss her goodbye, completely sated by her girlfriend's affections. She's still flush with it, when Cheryl approaches, rolling her eyes as if she's about to gag.

 

“Get a balcony why don't you?” she tosses out. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, or whatever. God, you'd think the two of you were parting for a fortnight rather than fourth period.”

 

Veronica sighs, but doesn't let it bother her, lips still full with the sensation of Betty's against them.

 

“Good day to you too, Cheryl.” she says instead.

 

The redhead smirks, but doesn't offer any further commentary about Veronica's love life, instead asks a question.

 

“So how is it, dating the United States of Tara?”

 

Veronica shoots her a look.

 

“Complicated, sometimes.” She allows. “But never boring.”

 

Cheryl nods.

 

“Does she, Madeline, ever come out while the two of you-”

 

“Cheryl!” Veronica exclaims. “That's hardly any of your business.”

 

“I'll take that as a yes,” Cheryl replies with a smug expression.

 

Veronica hugs her books a little tighter.

 

“Once or twice,” she admits.

 

Cheryl looks at her seriously.

 

“How did you know?” she asks. “That she changed?”

 

Veronica is quiet a moment.

 

“The eyes,” she answers softly. “Betty's are full of love. But Madeline? Well, it's just not the same.”

 

Cheryl nods again.

 

“Something on your mind?” Veronica asks after a beat.

 

Cheryl stops walking, shooting a cautious glance around them.

 

“This morning I forgot,” Cheryl begins softly. “That she isn't, they aren't...”

 

She makes a manic back and forth gesture with both hands.

 

“In sync. I walked right up to Betty, wanting to thank her for what she did last night, except-”

 

“Betty didn't do anything,” Veronica fills in. “And she looked at you like she had no idea what you're talking about.”

 

Cheryl regards her nails intently.

 

“She knows doesn't she? That Madeline and I are-” she still hesitates with the word. “Friends.”

 

“She does,” Veronica assures. “But that doesn't mean she's going to know what you're referring to, when it comes to stuff you might have done. Or be unable to hide that fact that she can't remember what her other does. Knowing Betty, she probably feels guilty she can't reciprocate whatever it is you have with Madeline.”

 

“Yeah,” Cheryl accepts. “It's just-”

 

“Hard. I get it. Really, I do.”

 

Toni Topaz walks behind Veronica then, who turns to glance at her, but she only has eyes for Cheryl. Neither girl says a word to each other, and Toni eventually breaks the look when she gets half way down the hall, but Veronica's brows lift with wanton curiosity.

 

“What,” she starts, pointing a finger where Toni has disappeared around a corner. “Was that.”

 

“Nothing,” Cheryl is quick to dismiss.

 

Veronica grins smugly.

 

“Did Madeline have something to do with it?”

 

Cheryl blushes furiously.

 

“I have to get to class.”

 

/\

 

“That girl has been giving you the eye all night,” Madeline teases into her ear.

 

They're in the Dew Drop, an oddly named but highly popularized gay bar over in Midvale. Cheryl's eyes immediately shoot to the direction opposite of said girl, trying her best to seem coy in front of her friend.

 

“A lot of girls have been giving me the eye,” she replies haughtily.

 

“Yeah,” Madeline concedes. “But this one looks like she'd push you up against a wall right about now.”

 

Cheryl wonders what Madeline hopes to accomplish in pointing that out. She knows full well who Toni Topaz is. Where she's from. The kind of people she associates with. And the fact they've been at each others throats on more than one occasion.

 

“Aren't you afraid she's going to see you?” Cheryl detracts. “She's best buddies with Hobo Jones, isn't she?”

 

Madeline grins at her.

 

“I would be,” she allows. “If she were looking at me at all.”

 

Color flushes into Cheryl's cheeks, but she remains stuck in place, held there by in invisible hand of doubt. Madeline isn't having it, however, nudging her shoulder just to make her move at all.

 

“No one here cares about whatever drama there might be between you,” she says evenly. “And no one is planning a wedding just yet. But fucking hell, Cheryl. Go over there. Talk to her. Do _something_.”

 

Cheryl shoots her a look. Betty never swears. It's mildly disconcerting that Madeline does with ease, then suddenly the girl's lips are so close to her ear.

 

“Stop being the girl who always wants what she can't have,” Madeline chides softly. “Or the one who destroys what she does.”

 

Madeline nudges her again. “Go.”

 

“Fine.” Cheryl huffs. “I'm going, I'm going. God, some friend you are.”

 

Madeline smiles.

 

“I'm the best friend you ever had.”

 

The truth of the statement pings inside Cheryl's heart. She's had subordinates. Minions. Hangers on. But never someone to confide in. To trust with her secrets, emotions, or anything else she holds onto all her own. Jason used to be there to help with the load, but he was her brother, her twin. Friend is not a word to define what he was.

 

Cheryl suddenly pulls her into a hug, which Madeline has no trouble reciprocating, but she breaks it far quicker than the redhead would like.

 

“Keep holding onto me like that and Toni is going to think you're taken,” she taunts. “Go on, Red. You got this.”

 

Cheryl runs a hand through her hair, takes a deep breath, and turns toward Toni who is still sitting at the bar.

 

“Hi,” she says in greeting.

 

Toni isn't shy about looking her up and down.

 

“Hey,” she says in reply.

 


End file.
